


The Under Level Visit

by wolfiefics



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, I did a LOT of Wookipedia dumpster diving for this, Obi-Wan does not get eaten, Qui-Gon thought about killing his apprentice but didn't want to deal with the paperwork, Rite of Passage, adventures of being a padawan, but it was a close thing, exploring Coruscant, no slashy, no smexy because Obi-Wan underage, teenage dares, twice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25619344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfiefics/pseuds/wolfiefics
Summary: After the events of Melida/Daan and the final confrontation with Xanatos on Telos, our intrepid Jedi master and apprentice are at Temple. Obi-Wan, however, is goaded into participating in a long-held right of passage for all padawans – The Under Level Visit. Things do not go well.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	The Under Level Visit

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this is the fault of the QuiObi Writing Discord. This time it was in the general writing question channel of “Does Obi-Wan ever get in HUGE trouble with his Master? What did he do? How does Qui-Gon react?” As for Plato’s quote, I just liked it and Plato needed some air time, I think. And I wasn't kidding about the Wookiepedia research. At least three or four hours just wandering that website, taking notes.

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.” – Plato

Every Jedi Master forgets about it. Every Initiate hears about it but dismisses it as boogeyman tales to scare them into being good. Every Padawan who faces it wishes they’d paid more attention to the stories when an Initiate.

The Under Levels.

The stories all featured the same information: flesh-eating zombies called cthon, hive rats, granite slugs, the infamous Coruscani ogres, and, rather unbelievably, feral, homicidal droids. Initiates thrilled to the grotesque stories of life in the Galactic City below the reach of the sun, told after lights out and accompanied by horrified, disbelieving giggles. None took them seriously.

Padawans, though, heard things in the halls of the Jedi Temple Initiates weren’t wont to roam. They overheard Jedi Knights and Masters discuss these unbelievable things as if they were real and of some concern. None of it could be true, of course, and that’s probably how the dare started.

When The Under Level Visit began no one knew. It had been around for centuries, maybe even before Master Yoda was born. New Padawans would be dared to go down to the lower levels and, without getting caught, return with what the Padawan saw that concurred with the stories. The Force would prove whether the Padawan spoke the truth.

Or the horror in their eyes and on their faces.

Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, unlike so many others before him, never paid much mind to the stories of the Under Levels as an Initiate. He was more interested in stories of Jedi Knights and Masters who fought the Sith during the Great Galactic Wars or studying intently various katas and combat forms in preparation of his future as a Jedi. Having been taken as apprentice on Bandomeer and following his master, Qui-Gon Jinn, on various missions immediately after, Obi-Wan had yet to mingle with his new padawan peers until his return to the Temple following Melida/Daan.

Needless to say, having left the Jedi and been accepted back once more made Obi-Wan Kenobi the perfect target to be dared to go to the Under Levels.

* * *

“Twenty credits he won’t do it.”

Obi-Wan paused, wondering at the near belligerent voice from a group of apprentices his age in the communal locker room. His master, Qui-Gon Jinn, just put Obi-Wan through a grilling joust and Obi-Wan was sweaty, sore, and a bit humbled. His master was a great swordsman. Obi-Wan only hoped he would be half as good if he ever became a knight.

“Why should he?” came a more reasonable, obvious feminine voice. “He’s on probation. If he gets caught, he’s out for good.”

They were talking about him? Obi-Wan continued to his locker, his pace slower, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing that would get him in trouble.

“Thirty credits,” challenged the first voice, voice cracking a bit, proving it belonged to a male humanoid whose voice hadn’t deepened with maturity yet. Obi-Wan could sympathize. His cracked on a regular basis.

“You haven’t gotten twenty credits, let alone thirty,” snorted another voice, grating and harsh, as if Basic was not a language the speaker was comfortable with.

Obi-Wan had been subject to various ribbing, teasing, or outright verbal hostility since Qui-Gon brought him back from Melida/Daan and their subsequent visit to Telos IV to defeat Xanatos. Some apprentices thought Obi-Wan shouldn’t have been accepted back. Others thought he deserved a stricter probation. A few offered sympathy and friendship, including his old creche mates Bant, Garen Muln and Reeft.

“Hey, Kenobi!” The first voice of the unknown humanoid shouted at him and, with a sigh and a plea to his patience to not get into a fight, Obi-Wan turned around with an inquiring expression.

His heart sank. It was Aalto, one of the now deceased Bruck Chun’s friends who had once been the bane of Initiate Kenobi’s existence. Honestly surprised someone had taken the lout as an apprentice, Obi-Wan donned what he hoped was a polite, serene expression and waited for whatever nonsense was going to come out of Aalto’s mouth.

“You haven’t taken the Visit,” Aalto said, marching right up to Obi-Wan and looking down his rather blunt nose at him. The taller human boy’s black hair stood on spiky end, damp still from his shower.

Obi-Wan was confused. “The what?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“The Under Level Visit,” clarified Aalto. “Every padawan has to go. You,” and here he poked Obi-Wan hard in the shoulder, “need the Visit more than anyone. Prove you’re supposed to _be_ a padawan, especially to someone like Master Jinn.”

Obi-Wan blinked stupidly at Aalto for a moment and then turned away dismissively. “That’s just stupid Initiate stories, Aalto,” he said, opening his locker and taking out a towel and shower toiletries.

“No, it’s not,” chimed in the female Twi’Lek that was with Aalto. “We’ve all done it,” she added with an attempt at bravery but instead sounded borderline terrified.

“Or tried to,” added the other human padawan with the group. Obi-Wan didn’t know him. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

“Oafy-Wan is scared,” taunted Aalto, his voice a near-whisper in Obi-Wan’s ear, where the others couldn’t hear. “Everyone knows Master Jinn has explored all the levels of Coruscant. It was like some life goal when he was younger.” This time Aalto spoke loud enough for his companions to catch. “What, Kenobi? You don’t think you can’t wheedle the best way to get there and back from your master? Maybe Jinn isn’t really your master after all?”

Obi-Wan grit his teeth and tried to ignore the niggling fear of not being accepted lingering in his mind. Master Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan back as his apprentice. The High Council also agreed to a probationary period where Obi-Wan would be required to undergo sessions with various High Council members to test his will and determination to be a Jedi. Things, though, were a bit strained between Obi-Wan and his master, as if Qui-Gon weren’t exactly sure what to do with Obi-Wan after all that happened between them.

And the old childhood inadequacies reared their ugly heads to give that added boost to his innate recklessness.

“What proof is required?” Obi-Wan asked, not looking at any of the other padawans as he shuffled things aimlessly about his locker.

“The Force will tell us if you’ve been there,” chortled Aalto in triumph.

“I go when I want and to whatever sector I want?” Obi-Wan clarified.

There was silence from the assembled apprentices until the Twi’Lek girl said, “As low as you think you’re brave enough to go.”

Without looking at them, Obi-Wan slammed the locker door shut, his hands full of shower items, nodded and replied, “I’ll send comms when I’m back. I have to shower and meet Master Windu for meditation.”

And with that, the subject was dismissed.

* * *

“Master?”

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn looked up from his datapad and smiled slightly at his rather unkempt apprentice. Obi-Wan was normally a fastidious boy but his braid was a bit frayed and there were large smudges of dirt on his cleft chin and right cheek. If Qui-Gon wasn’t mistaken there was a bit of dirt in his apprentice’s short-cropped hair as well. What had Mace made the padawan do in the Temple Gardens?

“You look like you’ve been playing in the dirt, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon commented.

Obi-Wan flushed, his fair skin suffusing red. “Um, Master Windu made me plant some things while we talked about the Code.”

“I thought you were supposed to meditate together?”

Obi-Wan gave a dismissive shrug. “He wanted to dig holes for flowers.”

Qui-Gon hid a smile. That smacked of Master Yoda’s doing. Mace Windu was not a plant person by any means.

“Can I ask you a question, Master?” Obi-Wan sat down on the chair opposite Qui-Gon and gave his master an anxious look.

“Obi-Wan, you may ask me anything,” Qui-Gon told him honestly. “If I feel it is something you do not need to know at this time, I will tell you. Otherwise, I will answer if I can.”

Obi-Wan nodded and then seemed to sink into deep thought. Qui-Gon waited patiently. He’d learned with this apprentice that Obi-Wan came to his thoughts and opinions after much deliberation, especially after the debacle that was Melida/Daan.

“They say you have explored all the levels of Coruscant,” Obi-Wan finally said. “Is that true?”

Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at that. Not a topic he thought Obi-Wan would broach. “I have explored extensively, yes, but I wouldn’t say ‘all the levels’. It would take a longer life span than I have to do so.”

Obi-Wan nodded again, this time with an even more pensive expression. “Have you been to the Under Levels?”

“Yes.” Qui-Gon wondered where this was going.

“Are the stories true?”

“Some of them.”

Obi-Wan went silent again, his expression now unreadable, and then stood to head for his bedchamber.

“Is that all you wanted to know?” Qui-Gon asked his apprentice just as the teenager reached the door.

“Yes, Master. Just silly stories I heard as an Initiate. I thought of them today while digging in the dirt. I thought I would ask.” Obi-Wan didn’t face him, but his tone was light and satisfied.

“Not all the stories are silly, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon told him. “There are great dangers down below where the sun doesn’t reach. Not even Master Yoda would dare tread there without good reason.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan disappeared into his room, his curiosity apparently satisfied.

Qui-Gon thought nothing more of it until three days later.

* * *

Leaving the Temple wasn’t hard. He could hardly walk past the Temple Guards, of course, but there were ways Padawans intent on having a good time or a bit of dangerous fun to leave the Temple unnoticed. Obi-Wan took one of the tunnels that led to the near-ancient lower levels of the Jedi Temple, crept through dust and cobwebs until he emerged into weak sunlight. It was three days after Aalto and his cronies issued the dare and the pressure had been mounting since. Obi-Wan had every intention of ignoring the taunts but Aalto, like Bruck, always knew where to jab the hardest.

“How are you supposed to be a Jedi Knight if you can’t even take one of the city lifts down a few hundred levels?”

‘A few hundred?’ Obi-Wan snorted to himself as he headed for one of those lifts. ‘There are over 5000 levels of the Galactic City, Aalto. Be more specific.’

Since his quick interrogation of his master, Obi-Wan did some research, trying to gauge where he could get into the least amount of trouble, what areas had inhabitants that were too unbelievable to be true, and where he could go and come back from in a reasonable time limit without getting caught.

Obi-Wan ruled out The Works. First of all, it wasn’t quite deep enough, probably, to satisfy the Visit’s parameters. While pretty low level, it was the former manufacturing sector where all the manufacturers had gone off-world, leaving only illegal businesses and shady criminal gangs to inhabit the area.

He also ruled out the Factory District. The idea of feral droids was a bit too fantastical but there were holovids of the area with droids roaming around, randomly destroying things in their path. One holovid had shown a feral droid tearing apart a nest of rats. It had been gory and Obi-Wan decided that perhaps that was not a wise place to be.

Next, Obi-Wan researched Twilighter myths and legends.

Twilighters were what the residents who lived below the sun’s weak reach were called. Sentient beings of every race and culture, Twilighters eked out a bare living as the societal dregs usually ignored by those who lived in the upper echelons of the planet-city. The population of Twilighters wasn’t known, as the numbers shifted constantly: those who left, those who died without record, those who disappeared mysteriously, or those who took pot shots at anyone who smacked of authority. In truth, no one really knew the exact population of Coruscant itself. Some said several trillion, others said that was a gross overestimate. As Obi-Wan’s city-lift moved down into the bowels of the Galactic City, he was inclined to think several trillion wasn’t high enough.

There were beings _everywhere_ he looked, crammed together, milling about like insects. The level he’d selected at random was reached and the door to the lift opened with a squeal. Obi-Wan winced but no one around paid it any mind. He exited, wrapped his brown robes tight about him to forestall any thieves or the revelation of his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he was supposed to have his lightsaber on The Visit. No one said he couldn’t and it seemed kind of stupid to be without it, so he opted on the side of ‘better armed than possibly dead’.

By all the gods in the universe, Obi-Wan hoped Qui-Gon didn’t find out about this or he _would_ be dead, run through with a lightsaber by an irate Jedi Master.

Obi-Wan stepped into the flow of the crowds, careful not to jostle anyone or cause offense. The smells were myriad and patently awful. It was mostly unwashed beings and garbage. Rotten garbage that somehow wasn’t being recycled or disposed of properly was the bulk of the smell.

Something made a squeaking hiss at him and Obi-Wan made a quick side-step. He curled his lip at the sight of a mutated hive rat currently chewing on what looked like might have once been a duracrete worm. As hive rats tended to roam in packs, Obi-Wan resolved to keep his eyes wide-open for more. He was fairly certain Master Qui-Gon would be put out to find his new apprentice had become rat food.

No one was paying Obi-Wan any mind, so he decided to keep going forward. There was no sunlight at all on level 3343. What light there was came from artificial sources such as holovid advertisements, lit signs glowing from business windows and a series of flickering lamps designed hundreds of years ago to illuminate the so-called street. He looked up and saw some illumination spilling from windows, but whether the buildings were residences or businesses, Obi-Wan had no idea.

The walls of all the buildings were painted, not a uniform color, but garish designs of all colors and paint types. It took Obi-Wan a moment to realize these were gang sign tags. Some of the painted designs overlapped, as if one gang had been superseded by another, and another, and another. Since he had no idea the gangs in this location, Obi-Wan couldn’t tell who belonged to what and where.

‘This could be an oversight on my part,’ Obi-Wan thought nervously. Last thing he needed was to get entangled in a gang war or angering someone in a gang’s territory. Lightsaber or no, it could mean a short life for Obi-Wan.

He picked up his pace, still being careful not to run into anyone and attempted to look like he was intent on his path. Obi-Wan learned on Melida/Daan that if it looked as if you had a purpose as you moved, people were more wont to leave you in peace.

His heart panged. Cerisi taught him that.

Obi-Wan gave his head a shake to clear thoughts of Cerisi and the Young. This was not the time for rumination. He needed his wits about him. Thoughtfully he looked around. Nothing seemed inordinately dangerous. The Force was relatively benign, in fact, humming along as if content with Obi-Wan’s actions.

As Obi-Wan moved, he took careful survey of the people. Mostly human or of humanoid ancestry, not a single one looked as if they had any hope. Most were malnourished, filthy and wearing near rags for clothing. Obi-Wan was actually one of the better dressed people, which made him a bit self-conscious.

A sign caught his eye, ancient to his way of thinking, advertising that the establishment sold Daro root beer. Obi-Wan heard of the drink but never actually tasted it. Thinking that perhaps he would give the place a bit of business, Obi-Wan stepped inside, his blue-green eyes adjusting slowly to the extreme dimness within.

“What?” snapped a high-pitched voice to his right.

Obi-Wan turned and gave a tremulous smile to the lanky non-human staring at him from behind a squat table.

“Daro root beer?” Obi-Wan asked.

The alien squinted at him. “What you talking about?”

Obi-Wan gestured to the sign, blinking at him in reverse from where it hung in the window. “I assume the sign there means you sell it?”

“It’s light. Go away.” The being turned away dismissively.

It Obi-Wan a moment to understand. The sign wasn’t an advertisement. It was a source of light. “My mistake. Sorry to disturb you,” he apologized and began to step outside once more. He had one foot outside and one foot in when all hell broke loose behind him.

A soprano squeal came from what had to be the alien to whom Obi-Wan had spoken, loud, terrified and in pain. Obi-Wan spun about to see what was wrong and was stunned to immobility for a moment.

A pack, for lack of better word, of creatures were devouring the alien. Shreds of flesh flew as if the eaters were in a feeding frenzy. The things were of a humanoid shape and wore scraggly loin cloths but that was where they stopped resembling anything civilized. They were a pale gray or white, skin flapping loosely about them as if they didn’t have enough flesh to fill the skin out. What Obi-Wan could see of their faces, they had no eyes and their hair was wispy and thin if it was there at all.

As if sensing Obi-Wan’s horrified presence, one looked at him and hissed a sound that made two others look at Obi-Wan as well. If they had teeth Obi-Wan couldn’t see them and he could see orbs moving about where eyes would be, but they were heavily covered by skin. How these creatures sensed things around them, as they had little nose to speak of as well, Obi-Wan didn’t know.

The alien victim was dead and Obi-Wan had no intention of being next on these creatures’ menu. He fled out the door and slammed it shut. There was scrabbling of long fingernails on the door inside and Obi-Wan looked about for help.

“Please!” he shouted to everyone nearby. “They ate him inside! They’ll come out! Help me!”

Whatever Obi-Wan expected to happen isn’t what did. Beings of all kinds turned to him, comprehended his words and began to pell-mell run away. The door shook as Obi-Wan put all effort into holding it shut, even using judicious use of the Force to aid him. It was the only aid he got.

“What are they?” he asked himself, running the database of Under Level creatures through his mind.

Cthon.

A frisson of fear ran down Obi-Wan’s spine. Zombie-like flesh eaters, rumored to have once been humans of some sort, mutated into mindless monsters by the environment of the lower levels of the Galactic City. Apparently not a rumor, but, pardon the expression, flesh and blood.

Obi-Wan’s muscles strained as the creatures within worked just as hard to get out. He looked about for someplace he could run to or hide in if he let go of the door and the cthon escaped their confines. His eye caught a grate, half-rusted and pulled off what was likely a sewage tunnel. Surely there was something better?

He scanned the so-called street. Doors were closed, lights in buildings were flicking out one by one as the people of Level 3343 attempted to hide from these voracious predators. With a sinking heart, Obi-Wan realized he was on his own and was, indeed, in a lot of trouble.

The grate was it. He only had one chance and that was it. No way he could force a door open before being overwhelmed. And once he was eaten the inhabitants of that building would undoubtedly be next.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan pressed with the Force against the door, let go, and ran for all he was worth for the grate some twenty paces away. He shifted the Force from the door to the grate, shoving the rusted metal aside and went in the hole feet first, but not without a panicked and apologetic cry for help.

_Master! Help me!_

* * *

Qui-Gon was having a good day. He’d taught a couple of initiate classes in basic saber stances, the little ones no older than six years of age. Their little faces screwed up in determination and concentration was, quite frankly, adorable. He praised each of them, no matter how well they did, and hoped they all became great Jedi Knights.

He was supposed to meet Obi-Wan for mid-day meal but Obi-Wan never showed. Thinking his apprentice was catching up with friends or academic work and lost track of time, Qui-Gon wasn’t too concerned. Obi-Wan was too afraid of putting a toe out of line to get into any mischief. Not that Obi-Wan was the mischievous type of teenager anyway. A bit too serious, even before Melida/Daan, would have been Qui-Gon’s complaint regarding Obi-Wan’s disposition.

Therefore, as he was sipping his favorite tea and pondering if he should start binge watching the latest holo thriller series, Qui-Gon was quite startled as, through their training bond, a terrified and contrite Obi-Wan all but screamed, _Master! Help me!_

They used telepathy a little bit before. Qui-Gon was known for having strong bonds, both training and friendship varieties. That he and Obi-Wan could communicate so using their bond wasn’t odd to Qui-Gon. He had been easing them into it, however, as constant use strained the mind and caused headaches and fatigue until each got used to it.

_Obi-Wan?_ He sent back with a slight bit of concern.

_I don’t know how to escape them!_

Escape them? _Escape what?_

_Cthon._

The word made Qui-Gon’s entire body go cold. Where in all the Sith Hells of the Universe was his apprentice?

_Where are you?_ He demanded.

_3343._

That was all Qui-Gon got before the training bond went still and silent. For one dreadful moment, Qui-Gon thought Obi-Wan passed into the Force. No. There. A vague sense of his apprentice. The boy was beyond frightened and the sensation of him being hunted filtered through the bond. Obi-Wan was concentrating on staying alive.

Good.

Because if Qui-Gon found him, if Qui-Gon saved him, Qui-Gon was going to kill the boy himself.

Qui-Gon was clipping his lightsaber to his belt and ready to stride out the door when it occurred to him.

The Under Level Visit.

Some bone-headed padawan dared Obi-Wan to do that stupid thing. Despite the fact that Qui-Gon himself had been such a stupid apprentice once, he was furious that Obi-Wan would succumb. Definitely a dead apprentice if he should save Obi-Wan.

  1. What did that mean? Level 3343?



By the Force, Obi-Wan went to the one level that the cthon regularly attacked. It was the in-between of those just wealthy enough not to live that low and the very lower levels where no one was desperate enough to go, no matter their circumstances. But Level 3343 was not a small area. Where to start?

Qui-Gon strode out of the chambers he shared with Obi-Wan, settling into a determined stride, mind racing as he thought of then discarded one area after another. Obi-Wan would have taken a city-lift. It was the only way to essentially get that far down unnoticed. Furthermore, Qui-Gon’s oh-so-clever padawan would have taken the tunnels beneath the Temple complex to one of the older lifts so that meant just beyond the Federal District.

_Obi-Wan!_ He called continuously as he made his way through the Temple, his demeanor telling all around him to get out of the way. There was not an answer but there was an occasional sensation of abject apology over the bond. Finally, Qui-Gon sent, hoping it didn’t overtax his padawan’s mind, _I’m coming for you. Stay out of the sewers._

“Qui-Gon!”

Qui-Gon didn’t pause. “Come,” he barked at Master Mace Windu.

Mace matched the tall, long-haired master’s pace easily enough. “What’s going on?” The High Council Member asked.

“Obi-Wan, for some Sith begotten reason, is running from cthon on Level 3343,” ground out Qui-Gon in a tone low enough that only Mace could hear.

A sharp intake of breath told Qui-Gon he wasn’t going into this rescue mission alone. Good. Two people to beat the snot of out of a foolhardy padawan learner.

“The Under Level Visit,” murmured Mace as they marched past the Temple guards at the main entrance.

“Likely. I should have taken note when he asked about my exploration of Coruscant’s lower levels the other day,” Qui-Gon ruefully confessed, weaving in and around the crowds as he headed for the ancient city-lift that likely had been the one that deposited Obi-Wan in his current location.

“We all should have thought of it,” Mace told him consolingly. “We’ve all been through this rite of passage and, with his recent troubles, we should have more than expected he would be challenged to do it. To prove himself.”

Qui-Gon gave a wordless growl but Mace’s conclusions were logical and eased some of Qui-Gon’s anger. Not his fear, however, for cthon were cunning and not easily run from. Though their sight was beyond dismal, like all beings who have lost a main sense, the rest more than made up for the loss. There were theories, unsubstantiated because no one wanted to catch a cthon to test it, that cthon could sense through the pores of their skin. How, no one knew: vibrations, humidity of the sweat of their prey, and countless other ideas but nothing definitive yet all equally plausible when it came to environmental mutations.

The lift ride was interminable. Obi-Wan’s panic was starting to seep into Qui-Gon and he found himself muttering under his breath at the slowness of the ancient machinery. Mace was centering himself, as Qui-Gon knew he should be doing. The potential fight to come was not going to be easy or pleasant. Even masters as they were, with years of battle experience, they could very likely not come out of this alive themselves.

Cthon were not enemies to confront for any reason other than desperation.

_Master! I think I’ve lost them._

‘No,’ Qui-Gon thought to himself, ‘they want you to think you have.’

_Stay alert, Padawan, and stay out of the sewers._

There was a pause and then guilt slimed over the bond. _It was the only place to go._

“Sith Hells!” Qui-Gon ground out.

Mace looked at him. “What’s happened?”

“He went in the damned sewers.”

Mace looked a bit ill. “Oh, dear,’ the Korun master said faintly.

_Get out of there. Now! It’s how they got on that level to begin with!_ Qui-Gon tried to send instructions back but something blocked him.

“Something is blocking me from Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon reported.

“What?” Mace’s tone was sharp.

“I don’t know. I think this has become more than The Under Level Visit, my old friend,” Qui-Gon said with a heavy, morose tone.

Mace drew out his comm link and called four more Jedi Masters, giving them instructions to meet at the lift exit on Level 3343. All four masters acknowledged and asked no questions.

“I hope you don’t mind if I kill your apprentice if we get him out of this alive?” Mace told Qui-Gon in a conversational tone.

“Stand in line,” Qui-Gon growled. “I get first dibs.”

* * *

Obi-Wan sat crouched in a niche in the sewer drain where he’d found refuge and tried desperately not to breathe through his nose. His ears were sensitive for sounds of any cthon that might have followed him but he heard nothing, to his immense relief. The odd thing, though, was that the Force was hard to grasp. It was slippery, fluid, and acted as if Obi-Wan were a new crecheling learning to manipulate it instead of a fourteen-year-old apprentice.

That made him nervous.

He couldn’t stay hidden here, however, so after straining his hearing as much as he could and still detecting nothing, Obi-Wan crept out of his little hole in the wall. He wanted to wretch. The smell of excrement, rotten garbage and other things was almost overpowering. His boot squished on something and he resolved not to look, sure it was something he didn’t want to know about.

The grate where he entered the sewer was about thirty paces away. Obi-Wan considered returning to the street level through it but decided to find another place of egress a bit further from potential flesh-eating zombie creatures.

Pulling his small palm light from a pouch on his belt, Obi-Wan flashed it forward enough that he could see not to fall into the moat of yuck beside his pathway and began to walk. Nothing was alive here that he could see, not even a half-starved hive rat. That did not bode well. Who knew what noxious, poisonous fumes he was breathing? He needed to get street side and quick.

After about ten careful steps Obi-Wan swore he heard footsteps following behind him. Cautiously, ready to run if he needed to, the Jedi apprentice turned around and flashed his light where he’d just come from. There was nothing there. He moved on, listening for those footsteps that, sure enough, began as well.

Obi-Wan’s nerves jangled and he picked up his pace. Was it his imagination? Did the footsteps behind him speed up as well? Before he realized it, he was moving at a ground-eating jog, his gaze flashing from the ground before him and the ceiling above him.

He had just reached another sewer grate that had a rickety, rusted ladder up to it when a peal of maniacal laughter resounded around the tunnel. Obi-Wan whirled about, palm light revealing the shadows behind him and his other hand going to his lightsaber.

“Little mouse, little mouse, you think you can leave?” The voice was sing-song and childish despite its depth that indicated an adult being.

Obi-Wan calmed himself as much as he could and systematically moved the light around where he’d come from. Eventually it landed on the most outlandish being he’d ever seen on the other side of the sewage river.

He couldn’t tell the thing’s height but it was slender to the point of skeletal. Unlike the cthon, this creature’s skin didn’t hang loose on his frame, but was taut as if stretched to the breaking point. The thing smiled at him, revealing gums full of blackened teeth or holes.

Or at least Obi-Wan assumed that was a smile.

A claw-like hand waved cheerfully at him and Obi-Wan swallowed hard before giving a returning, courteous nod. “Hello,” he ventured with a croak.

“Little mouse, little mouse, you think you can leave?” the creature repeated in the same voice.

“I would like too, yes. I was trying to escape the cthon on the street level,” Obi-Wan explained cautiously.

The being chortled. “From the frying pan into the fire!”

Obi-Wan’s grip on his lightsaber tightened but he didn’t dare ignite it. His companion hadn’t made a threatening move. He, or at least Obi-Wan thought it was a he, was just behaving as if unhinged. If he lived down here all the time, Obi-Wan figured the creature had a right to a bit of mental instability.

“Are you the fire, then?” Obi-Wan asked with bravado he didn’t feel.

The being cocked his head to the side after a detailed perusal of Obi-Wan and made an oddly comforting purring sound.

“You Jedi,” he said, almost happily.

“Yes, I am the apprentice to Master Qui-Gon Jinn,” Obi-Wan replied.

At his master’s name, the creature made an extraordinary leap over the river of ick and landed neat as you please a short distance from Obi-Wan. He gestured at the grate Obi-Wan had intended to climb up to.

“No go there, no no no,” chanted the creature. “Icky show you the way. Jinn save Icky once, now Icky save something belongs to Jinn.”

The creature, Icky, motioned for Obi-Wan to follow, edged around the nervous apprentice, and walked with a loping gait further down the tunnel. Something told Obi-Wan to follow, so he did.

By the Force, he hoped he wasn’t making an error in judgement.

* * *

Six Jedi Masters stood in the empty street of Level 3343, looking around in disgusted dismay. It was carnage everywhere. Obi-Wan had been correct in his identification. Cthon definitely visited Level 3343 and left very little behind that hadn’t been closeted behind near-impregnable doors.

_Obi-Wan._ Qui-Gon had been calling for his apprentice for nearly thirty minutes now with no response. There was a faint tremor through their not-yet cemented training bond, so Obi-Wan was alive. The question was, _where_ was Obi-Wan?

They found the grate Qui-Gon assumed Obi-Wan used as an escape route from the cthon. None of them wanted to go down there but Qui-Gon figured he would have to eventually. He had one hope, a long-shot, and if that didn’t work, then down into the sewers he would go. He’d drag Mace with him, just to irritate his old friend and Councilmember.

Stepping carefully over scattered remains, body parts and street trash, Qui-Gon began to walk down the barely lit avenue. The other five masters followed him. Qui-Gon was infamous for having fulfilled an ambition of exploring as much of Coruscant as possible. He was one of the few Jedi, to his knowledge, that had done so. Therefore, the others were letting him take the lead.

Lengthening his stride, Qui-Gon passed shuttered businesses, corner markets, locked and barred tenement apartment buildings and the occasional empty kiosk that sold things like death sticks and various addicting spices. The smell was atrocious but Qui-Gon knew if Obi-Wan was still in the sewer, his apprentice had it worse.

Mace caught up and matched Qui-Gon’s pace. “Where are we going?”

“Icky’s.”

Mace paused a moment. “Is that an establishment or the name of someone whose home we’re going to?”

Qui-Gon quirked his lips in a smile. “Icky is a scavenger. He knows every crook and cranny of this level and all the levels under it that isn’t a guaranteed death sentence to visit. If Icky hasn’t found Obi-Wan by now, he’ll know just where to look.”

“And Icky is what precisely?”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “I haven’t the foggiest idea his species. I don’t think he does either, nor does he care.”

“And why would he help us?”

Qui-Gon’s smile grew a bit bigger. “Because I saved his life once and now he owes me a favor.”

Mace grunted. “That’s comforting.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

They remained silent the rest of the way to an alley quite a walk away from the lifts. Qui-Gon stretched out with the Living Force and tried not to recoil. This once wasn’t too bad of a level. It looked, though, in recent years things had taken a decided downturn. It was no longer just poverty stricken. It was now essentially a ghetto of those that literally had nothing left to them to make life worth living.

Qui-Gon paused at the mouth of Icky’s alley, took his palm light from his belt pouch, and with his lightsaber in hand moved forward. Refuse was everywhere. No one collected the garbage this far down. Things crunched under his boots, and those of the Jedi Masters hesitantly following him. He tried not to think of what those crunchy things might be.

“By the Force, this is foul,” grunted one of the masters, a Rhodian Qui-Gon met just today.

Qui-Gon made no comment and moved as deep into the long alley as he could go, stopped and waited. The customary Icky sing-song greeting didn’t come. Qui-Gon hoped that a) Icky was still alive, and b) Icky still lived in this alley.

“Icky?” he called out with a gentle tone. “It’s Jinn. I need your help.”

A scrabble of noise to their right made all six Jedi Masters swing around toward it. A hive rat, mangy and diseased, hissed at them as it scurried away. That wasn’t promising.

“Icky?” Qui-Gon called again.

A window squealed open above them and a cranky voice called down. “He’s in the sewer, the little scumrat.”

Qui-Gon looked up. A craggy, lined face glared down at him. He couldn’t determine gender but the speaker looked mostly human. “Does he live there now?” Qui-Gon asked with a sinking heart.

The apartment dweller shook their head. “Nah, just goes down there. If you know Icky, you know that critter is just not right in the head.” With that pronouncement, the window slammed shut.

“That’s good, right?” Mace ventured. “That Icky’s in the sewer. It means he’s liable to find Obi-Wan and bring him here?”

Qui-Gon gave a sigh. “Presumably, yes.” He didn’t bother to add that Icky might just as well eat Obi-Wan than save him.

_Padawan Kenobi, answer me this instant!_ Qui-Gon put a hefty amount of pique into his telepathic send and about fell over in surprise when he got an answer.

_Icky found me._

Outloud and through the bond, Qui-Gon breathed a heartfelt, “ _Thank the Force.”_

“Why are you thanking the Force?” Mace demanded.

“Icky has found Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon explained. _Tell Icky we’re at his alley._

Qui-Gon no sooner sent the message when a child-like voice chortled, “Jinn, Jinn! Icky found something you lost!”

It took a moment, even with six beams of light illuminating the alley’s dark depths, for Icky and Qui-Gon’s bedraggled Padawan Learner to emerge from someplace beyond what was Icky’s hovel.

Icky looked even more scarecrow than he’d been when Qui-Gon last saw the scavenger. With the aplomb of the fine diplomat he was, Qui-Gon bowed in respect to Icky. “I thank you, Icky, for returning my lost apprentice.”

The other Jedi Masters took cue and bowed as well. Icky all but preened at the attention. “Yes yes, Icky find him scurrying like a mousey-mouse. At first I think Icky has dinner, but then mousey-mouse says he belongs to Jinn so I bring him here!”

To Qui-Gon’s satisfaction, Obi-Wan looked suitably alarmed at Icky’s pronouncement that the apprentice might have been on the scrounger’s menu. The young Jedi opened his mouth to say something but Qui-Gon made a stern, slashing movement with his hand that eloquently said “shut up, you’re in enough trouble”.

“As I recall, Icky, you owed me a debt. The debt has been paid ten-fold. I owe you more than you know,” Qui-Gon told the strange, skeletal being that was all but bouncing in place on the balls of his bare, filthy feet. “What can I get for Icky to make us even?”

Icky’s eyes, bulbous and black as pitch, went wide as dinner plates. He gave a covetous look at the palm light in Qui-Gon’s hand. “Light?” the creature said tremulously, as if hoping for a special treat but certain he wouldn’t get it.

Before Qui-Gon could make a move or say anything, Obi-Wan grasped Icky’s dirty, claw-like hand and placed his own palm light in it. “Please, Icky, take mine,” the apprentice said in a humble tone. The apprentice then emptied his pouches of all the nutrient packs he carried and set them in almost reverent supplication before Icky. “And all my food. These nutrient packs will last you a long time. A little bit goes a long way. If you don’t like them, use them for trade for what you _do_ want.” The apprentice gave a deep, respectful bow to Icky, who was gaping at Obi-Wan like he was some god descending from on high. “I thank you for not eating me and bringing me to Master Jinn. I won’t forget your kindness, Icky.”

To Qui-Gon’s astonishment, Icky burst into loud, noisy, sloppy sobs. “Every time Icky meets Jedi, Jedi do good things for Icky,” the creature cried. “No one does good things for Icky but Jedi!”

And at that, the six Jedi Masters placed on Obi-Wan’s pile their palm lights and nutrient packs also. Qui-Gon took a chance that Icky wasn’t carrying anything contagious on him and patted the emaciated being on the shoulder comfortingly.

“It will be all right, Icky. If ever you need Jedi, you come to the Temple. Tell them Masters Jinn and Windu said to come, to give you what you need.”

Mace gave a strangled noise at that but didn’t contradict Qui-Gon.

“We must go, Icky. Be well, my friend, and be careful. Obi-Wan, come.” Qui-Gon gestured for Obi-Wan to move and the seven Jedi left a sniffling, snuffling Icky behind, but not in darkness. Icky had turned off all but one of the palm lights and was cooing to himself in his newly lit world.

* * *

Obi-Wan knew he was in trouble. Probably enough trouble to get him expelled from the Jedi Order until the end of his days. No one spoke as they made their way back to the lifts. Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched at the sight of dismembered bodies, no doubt left behind by the cthon. His master’s hand was heavy on his shoulder so he kept moving.

Once in the lift, he chanced a glance at both his master and Master Windu. Master Windu was looking him up and down as if discerning if Obi-Wan were hurt. The rage that had been building inside Master Qui-Gon buffeted Obi-Wan’s shields.

Yes. He was going to get it, all right.

Once within the Temple, the four Jedi Masters who’d helped in the hunt for Obi-Wan took their leave, mumbling about exfoliating baths. Master Windu followed Obi-Wan and his master to their quarters. Obi-Wan hoped Master Windu would act as a shield, because Obi-Wan was more and more certain Qui-Gon was going to beat him senseless.

As the door to their quarters slid shut, Qui-Gon turned on Obi-Wan, eyes a blaze of blue flame. “What in all the gods in the universe possessed you to go down there?” he thundered.

Obi-Wan dipped his eyes down in shame. “The Under Level Visit,” he mumbled.

“Told you,” Master Windu said calmly. “Sit down, Obi-Wan. Master Qui-Gon isn’t going to actually beat you. I won’t let him.”

“And why aren’t you?” growled Master Qui-Gon.

“Because he did a good and self-less thing this evening,” Master Windu rejoined, “and you damned well know it.”

Qui-Gon made an inarticulate snarl and began to pace.

Master Windu turned his attention back to Obi-Wan. “I assume you were challenged?” he asked almost conversationally.

Obi-Wan mutely nodded, staring down at his muck-ridden boots.

“You knew you would be in a lot of trouble if caught, considering your current probationary status?”

Again, Obi-Wan nodded.

“Then why, Obi-Wan, did you give in?”

Mouth dry, Obi-Wan managed to whisper, “They said I wasn’t good enough to be a Knight. That if I didn’t go, it would prove I wasn’t good enough.”

All movement ceased and Obi-Wan didn’t dare look up. He was afraid of the censure on the two masters’ faces. See the proof that Aalto and the other padawans were right. ‘Oafy-Wan’ would never be good enough to be a Jedi Knight.

“Obi-Wan,” sighed Qui-Gon, crouching beside him and tilting his head up so their eyes met. “You _are_ good enough. You are an apprentice. You made a mistake. A passionate, well-meaning, selfless mistake on Melida/Daan. You thought you found a cause worthy of your gifts.”

Master Windu interrupted. “And I’m not entirely certain you were wrong when you told Master Qui-Gon it was the will of the Force you remain behind.”

“What?” Master Qui-Gon looked at the Councilmember in surprise.

“Think about it, Qui-Gon. Even indirectly, Obi-Wan staying on Melida/Daan brought you back, brought the two of you together once more. You revealed the plots undermining potential peace and brought that peace about. That wouldn’t have happened if you both returned with Master Uvrain.”

Obi-Wan watched his master anxiously. In a way, perhaps, Master Windu was right, he thought to himself, but it didn’t excuse him putting himself in danger for a stupid dare.

Master Windu settled back in his seat, heedless of any grunge he was transferring to the upholstery. “Obi-Wan, while reckless, has done nothing that padawans for hundreds of years haven’t done. You know as well as I do, Qui-Gon, The Under Level Visit is a padawan tradition. Whether we masters and knights like it is irrelevant, especially as we ourselves have participated in our youth.”

Obi-Wan chanced a glance at Master Qui-Gon and was relieved to see a pensive expression on that craggy face. Master Windu then went for the kill.

“As a matter of fact, I know the reason you became fascinated with exploring Coruscant is _because_ of that dangerous dare.”

Qui-Gon’s expression turned bilious and Obi-Wan tensed. Here was the explosion. Here was where Master Qui-Gon demanded Master Windu to leave and Obi-Wan would be left with an irate master.

Instead, Qui-Gon deflated. “You’re right, much as I hate to admit it,” Master Qui-Gon said. He then turned to Obi-Wan, expression stern. “You do rate punishment for the trouble you put us through. You are damned lucky to be alive, Padawan Mine. The cthon are not easily thwarted or escaped from.”

“It was the will of the Force?” Obi-Wan tried weakly.

Master Windu gave a snort of laughter. “It was indeed,” he agreed. “Don’t kill him, Qui. And I think he’s sweated out possible punishments enough to _be_ a punishment, don’t you think?”

Master Qui-Gon glowered at his friend, who raised his hands up in surrender, stood up and patted Obi-Wan on the shoulder on his way to the door. “Good night, you two. Obi-Wan, your session with me is cancelled tomorrow. Rest. And for Force sake, take a steaming hot bath. I don’t care about the water rations.”

With that pronouncement, Master Windu left.

With a sigh, Master Qui-Gon stood from his crouch and pulled Obi-Wan up with him. There was a brief hug that stunned Obi-Wan. Master Qui-Gon was not a demonstrative man.

“Shower. Clean every crevice of your body that you can reach,” his master ordered. “Then I’ll put some food in that stomach of yours and then we’ll sleep. Your punishment will be given in the morning.”

Not sure if he were grateful for the reprieve, Obi-Wan gathered clean sleep clothes and immersed himself under a hot water shower. He scrubbed every inch of himself until he was the color of a cook crustacean then got dressed. He slunk out of the fresher to the kitchen, where a plate of cold cut meats and cheese awaited him. He ate mechanically and, not meeting his master’s eye, went to his chamber and to bed.

Obi-Wan didn’t sleep well. While he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to be expelled from the Order, other things tumbled around in his mind, keeping him awake. How was he to prove he’d gone to the Under Levels to the other padawans? Would word that six Jedi Masters had to save him spread around the Temple? Would that work in his favor or just prove he wasn’t Jedi material to his peers?

Just after dawn, Obi-Wan drifted out to the common room, feeling like a mindless zombie, to find Master Qui-Gon dressed and making morning meal. Fruit, a hearty grain bread toast and tea was served and consumed. The tension stretched, at least to Obi-Wan, but his master said nothing regarding his punishment for the previous night’s fiasco.

Back in the common room, Obi-Wan sat on the small sofa, back straight and tense as a taut wire. Master Qui-Gon looked at him long and hard before giving him a reassuring smile.

“Your punishment, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, for being caught in the lower levels after curfew is that you will write up a treatise on all the dangers to be found in the Under Levels. Once complete and edited by myself, it will be distributed to all padawans under the age of fifteen or their species equivalent as a required reading. Master Windu, as head of the Jedi Order, has sent missives to all Jedi Masters and Knights with these apprentices that they will be randomly quizzed for the next month. Answers will be expected to be precise and respectful regarding the dangers of the lower levels of Coruscant.”

Horror filtered through Obi-Wan. This was worse than he’d thought! “Can’t you just cane me, Master?” Obi-Wan pleaded frantically. “Everyone will know that I got caught, that I’m the reason for all of this!”

Master Qui-Gon settled back in his seat. “They will indeed,” he agreed without a hint of remorse at his apprentice’s predicament. “You will also include vid stills or holovideo for each entry of the dangers known. I suggest you find the most graphic ones possible to illustrate the dangers.”

Numbed, Obi-Wan swallowed and tried to speak but couldn’t. He wound up nodding acquiescence.

Master Qui-Gon stood up. “You are excused from all probationary requirements until the project is complete.” Qui-Gon walked to a wafer box on a shelf, rummaged through it a moment, turned and tossed four wafers at Obi-Wan. “All my notes, stills, and holos of my explorations of Coruscant. Between those and what’s on the holonet, you should have a veritable plethora of information to use.”

Master Qui-Gon paused and Obi-Wan looked up to see his master smiling at him in an almost fond way. “I want to commend you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for your treatment of that poor, wretched Icky. Even after hearing that Icky contemplated eating you, you still gave him valuables in his world. At that depth, light sources are considered more priceless than the finest metals and gems. And the food packets you gave him will indeed keep him fed quite well for many weeks. You inspired us masters, with your humble thanks, to do so in kind as well. Icky will not forget the Jedi, and I guarantee he will _not_ forget you. Ever. So consider that no matter how mean the environment, there is always someone who is a brightness within it. Kindness and compassion can be found in the ugliest of forms. The old saying is trite but true: don’t judge a book by its cover.”

With that, Master Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan to his research. It was a lesson that stayed with Obi-Wan for all his long days: through his apprenticeship, his knighthood and own time as a master, a general leading an army, a refugee and prey to one of the greatest of evils, and finally to those who he knew would lead him to his death but would shine a light of hope on the universe.

The lesson of The Under Level Visit guided Obi-Wan Kenobi until his last breath.

(fin)


End file.
